Helix
by CheleSedai
Summary: ON HIATUS. Currently being re-written and re-posted. Stargate SG1/Tomorrow People 90s xover. Jack O'Neill's clone has a new life, and it's about to get as weird as the one he had to leave behind. Formerly titled "Transient Reality." WIP.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The characters and situations portrayed here are not mine. The Tomorrow People belong to Roger Damon Price, Thames/Tetra Television, ITV and Nickelodeon. Stargate SG-1 and universe, are all the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. Katie Lyons and River Warrendale are mine and mine exclusively.  
  
Spoilers: This story takes place after Season 7 of Stargate, but before Season 8. Consider it spoilery for anything and everything up to "Fragile Balance." For New Series Tomorrow People, this story takes place approximately 8 years after the events of the last serial, "The Living Stones."

----------------

Transient Reality  
Part 1

"Glad you could see fit to join us, Mr. Bartidge. Your favorite table is waiting."

Jacob Bartidge, self-appointed protector and defender of geeks and lowly freshmen, heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes as he handed over his detention slip to Mr. Wilson. The physics teacher's blue eyes narrowed behind his rimless glasses and the slight tightening of the man's mouth told Jake that this detention wouldn't be the last he'd hear about regarding his latest bout of fisticuffs.

"It wasn't my fault," Jake insisted as Mr. Wilson skimmed the detention note.

Whatever hope Jake held onto that his swelling lip and nearly closed left eye would garner some sympathy from one of his favorite teachers was dashed when the man's frown deepened and he shook his dark head, making a slight 'tsking' sound. Mr. Wilson motioned Jake towards an empty desk. "It never is, is it, Jake?"

As per usual, the fact that he had actually been defending a fellow student from one of the jocks who got a little too fresh and touchy feely had completely escaped the attention of Vice Principal Skinner. Skinner saw the jocks as the golden children and alpha males of Colorado Springs High School, especially during the height of football season when the team was on a winning streak. Cameron "The Caminator" Turner couldn't have been doing anything wrong; he was simply having a discussion with Katie. It was Jake who causing trouble, Jake trying to make a name for himself, Jake who had to be jealous because another guy was "putting the moves" on his girl.

Which just went to show precisely how out of touch with the world Skinner really was. Katie was Jake's friend, one of his best friends really, but not "his girl." If there had been something going on between he and Katie, Jake wouldn't have settled for just giving Cameron a sprained wrist. Then again, who knew what Jake might have done if Cameron's shadows hadn't jumped into the fray in an attempt to "show the geek a lesson."

He dropped his backpack onto the desk, carefully ignoring the combination of curious and amused stares that he received. Jake was used to it by now. After nearly two years, he knew that he was either considered the Champion of the Underdog or the Bane of The Privileged. He learned to live with it long ago.

Easing into the chair, he congratulated himself on only giving a slight wince and favoring his knee only barely. In this world of dog-eat-dog where over half of his fellow detention would like to see him get his come-uppance, he knew better than to show any weakness. Such was the plight of high school.

Which left him wondering for probably the millionth time why he thought it was a good idea to experience high school again. The words sounded brave and macho when he said them a year and a half past as he descended from Colonel Jack O'Neill's (that would be The Original, Jack O' Neill Mark One) truck to the watching, curious and shyly interested eyes of a gaggle of teenage girls. In fact, the whole idea had been fun and entertaining until Jake realized that teenagers were ... well, teenagers, and even if he was trapped in the body of one, mentally he was beyond that. His fellow students were ego-driven, self-absorbed pockets of wasted humanity, a fact that Jake had somehow forgotten until he was forced to co-exist with them everyday.

It had taken him all of three months to admit how much he hated being sixteen. The only advantage was with forty some odd years of memories and Air Force training behind him, he could make things a little better for the poor geeks who didn't stand a chance when the jock shark pool smelled blood in the water. He denied that it had anything to do with two science geeks who'd grown on him far too much and everything to do with the fact that he was now one of those geeks. Because despite the fact that the Air Force had his life mapped out for him once he "got it out of his system," he decided that this time around he could have a little bit more "know how."

However, none of those thoughts or self-revelations did anything to get him out of detention or to wipe the disappointment from Mr. Wilson's face. And, to quote the vernacular of the day, disappointing your favorite teacher really sucked. Jake never thought he would be in a position again where that look of disenchantment cut through his gut, hell he was only seventeen on the outside, but still the knowledge that he had once again let down one of the few people he felt he could relate to hurt a lot.

With another sigh, Jake pulled one of his textbooks out of his bag, grateful that Mr. Wilson felt that detention should be used for some useful purpose, like doing homework, rather than doing middling chores for the teachers or performing middling grammar and math exercises repetitively just because the individual in charge enjoyed the power play. Jake knew because he sat through detention with those teachers as well.

He opened his trig book to the day's assignment, but his eyes didn't really focus on the page. Instead, his thoughts flickered to another time and place, where he saw equations written on a chalkboard and a slender blonde puzzled over them. He could still hear her voice, even though in his heart Jake knew that these weren't really his memories at all. He was remembering another man's life, a life which that other man got to live out and enjoy – bad knees and all. While Jake might still harbor thoughts of the unfairness of it all, he also acknowledged that as more time passed he came to be less resentful.

Primarily because as more time passed since those confusing days between waking up with the face of a sixteen year old and then discovering that you really are sixteen because you're only a clone of the person whom you thought you were, Jake came to realize that he was more than a clone of Colonel Jack O'Neill. Besides, the Air Force was taking care of him for the rest of his life, courtesy of "Uncle Jack" and General Hammond, so there weren't any complaints there.

And hey, two good knees were nothing to sneeze at.

Shaking his head, Jake pulled himself from his random thoughts and the not-his memories and went to work on his math assignment. After all, if he finished it during detention, he might actually be able to shoot a few hoops with River tonight.

End of Part I


	2. Part 2

Transient Reality -- Part II

Only a few steps separated Jake from the safety and security of the outside hallway as opposed to the stifling disapproval from within the detention room. He held his breath as he bled into the flow of detention students freed from the afternoon's session, although deep down inside he had a sneaking suspicion that he would not escape that easily.

His fears were realized when those six dreaded words rang out behind him before he could cross that threshold of safety.

"Jake, could you stay a moment?"

Swearing inwardly, Jake winced, took a deep breath and turned to face his teacher. "Sure, Mr. Wilson, what's up?"

Good old teenage nonchalance, Jake could fake it with the best of them.

If Jake's flippant answer fazed the older man, Mr. Wilson did not show it. He simply waved towards an empty desk at the front of the classroom, "Have a seat please."

Jake did not need even half the intelligence of a donut to figure out that this was not a good thing. In fact, Jake was pretty damn sure that any conversation that any teacher started with the preference of "Have a seat, please" or "Please sit down," did not bode well for the student on the receiving end of the lecture. He said lecture because that was what it would turn out to be, no matter how hard the adult in question might try and make it seem like it was a conversation or dialogue. That was the way of the world; he simply continued to have a terrible time getting used to the fact that he was in the role of the student.

Even worse if the teacher in question was your favorite teacher, something of a mentor and considered you to be something of his protégé. Or at the very least considered you the best thing to walk into his chemistry classroom since he started teaching. Not that Mr. Wilson had been teaching long enough to grow jaded about the whole process, Jake figured that he was four years out of college, and that was being generous with his age given his rather boyish looks. But Mr. Wilson was one of the few teachers, one of the very few adults actually, who didn't treat Jake like he was only a high school student. He saw there was more to Jake than met the eye, and usually, aside from when in the classroom or when put into the position where he had to present himself as the older, wiser mentor, treated Jake more like an equal than just a smart kid.

It was something that had been totally unexpected ... and welcomer than Jake would ever have admitted to aloud. After meeting and falling in with River and Katie, whom he felt a strong kinship with if only because despite the fact that they were teenagers, they were far more mature and settled for their ages than any other teenagers that Jake had met, they introduced him to Mr. Wilson. The physics teacher saw something in the two strays that no one else had, and he was something of surrogate father it seemed; or at the very least he was a teacher who actually cared and got involved. It helped too that Jake himself was also a "stray," an emancipated minor who's parents were killed in a tragic plane crash two years earlier who relocated to Colorado Springs to be close to his only remaining family, his mother's brother, his estranged Uncle Jack O' Neill.

Naturally, Jake held some skepticism and distrust towards Mr. Wilson at first. In his experience it didn't make sense for a grown man to want to spend the after school hours in his classroom talking sports and movies with teenage kids. And it certainly didn't make sense that a normal, non-threatening teacher would want to help kids work through their adolescent angst and problems; but Mr. Wilson was genuine and in no way a pervert or pederast. Jake attributed that naïve innocence and optimism to Mr. Wilson's youth and lack of experience; in about twenty more years he'd probably be as jaded as Jake and as uninvolved as a majority of the other teachers around Mountain Springs High School.

"Look, Mr. Wilson, I know I screwed up today," Jake began in earnest, hoping to cut the man off at the pass, "but you have to believe me when I say that it wasn't my fault. I didn't start it. Well, not really, I only suggested --"

"I believe you, Jake." The words were soft, the precise and clipped British accent somehow soft and understanding. Mr. Wilson slipped into a vacant student desk and indicated the one next to him with his hand, "Now, sit down."

Jake obeyed the order before he even thought about it. He blinked the moment he realized that he was in the seat and shook his head. It was the one thing about Mr. Wilson; somehow he always managed to say just the right words in just the right tone to get the students to listen to him. More than likely that was the reason that the high school students hadn't eaten him alive yet. "So, if you believe me --"

"You're correct. You screwed up," Mr. Wilson paused and held up a hand to forestall any objection or outburst that Jake might make, "All I want to know is what's going on with you?"

Different things brought forth different senses of déjà vu for Jake, mostly when he least expected it. For instance the way Mr. Wilson looked at him at that moment reminded him of the look Carter often gave him, well not really him but Jack O'Neill, when she just went into a rambling explanation and expected Jack to understand it and all Jack could do was stare back blankly or make a quip about speaking in English using small words. Jake felt that particular blankness right at that moment.

"I don't know what you're talking about." It wasn't a teenage excuse or a lie. Jake could honestly say he was completely confused.

Mr. Wilson removed his glasses and leaned forward, blue eyes holding Jake's gaze and daring him to look away. It was eerie because Jake had the fleeting thought that Mr. Wilson was not looking at him, but rather was looking through him. "When the school year first started, you were doing amazingly well. You stayed out of trouble and out harm's way. You, wisely, avoided the jocks. You even stood down in physical education classes when they tried to call you out.

"Now, suddenly it's as though you're a different person. In less than three weeks, you've been a party to five different alterations, each of them escalating into a bit more physical brutality each time. Is there some reason you're trying to get expelled?"

"Expelled? What? No!" Jake jerked upright, the words tumbling out in a mad sputtering. He wondered if he sounded as stupid as he thought he did and then realized that at least it probably meant he sounded like a typical seventeen year old. Although he wasn't particularly certain if that was a good or bad thing in this instance. "Is that you what think? That I'm trying to get kicked out of school? It's my senior year, where else would I go?"

"Then what?"

"I don't know. Maybe the jocks have gotten smarter. It could happen."

"Jake --"

"It could."

"Jake --"

"Wrong place, wrong time. I don't know, Mr. Wilson, what do you want me to say? I can sure as hell tell you that I am unequivocally not trying to get expelled." Jake paused, realized what he said, and belated added, more out of habit than anything else, "Sir."

"Unequivocally." Mr. Wilson repeated. He stared at Jake for a moment, then the corners of his mouth slowly turned up. "You've just proven the point that I was going to try and make, so thank you."

Again, Jake felt that familiar sense of 'what the hell did I miss' déjà vu. Unfortunately, the only thing that came out of his mouth this time was, "Huh?"

"Have you ever considered applying for early graduation, Jake?"

"Sir?" Jake said it and kicked himself mentally. He was starting to sound like a fifty year old colonel and not a seventeen-year-old high school senior.

"You are one of the top students in the school. Your grades are all top notch, with the exception of history and that could be taken care of with a little tutoring. You could easily test out of all your required subjects. You would be free to stop coming to school everyday and you wouldn't have to risk expulsion."

"Yeah, but then I'd be bored. And hey, graduation and prom, those are the highlights of high school. I wouldn't want to miss those."

"I'm sure we could get you special dispensation."

"I'm really not that smart, Mr. Wilson. I just have good study partners. Katie's a math whiz you know? And River? The boy absorbs English and history like a sponge." Jake wondered, for not the first time, if maybe Loki, the Asgard version of Dr. Moreau, hadn't scrambled his brain when he cloned him from Jack O'Neill. After all, why else was he putting up such an argument about this? Mr. Wilson was handing him a 'get out of high school free card' and he wanted to put it back in the deck and shuffle again.

No way could he be getting attached to all the trappings of high school and adolescence. His friends maybe, but the rest of it, Jake was absolutely positive he could do without. Who needed more than one prom and graduation anyway?

Then why was he suddenly breaking into a cold sweat and wishing he were staring down a Goa'uld instead of sitting in the classroom having this conversation with a high school physics teacher?

"You used the word unequivocally in a conversation," Mr. Wilson pointed out. "Not too many 'not that smart,' seventeen-year-olds would do that."

Jake took a deep breath and blew it out. "Is it really that bad?"

"It could be, if you're not careful. Considering how many times we've talked about more non-violent approaches to these -- encounters -- you don't seem to be taking my advice to heart, Jake. It's just a matter of time before there won't be an eyewitness to state that you unequivocally did not start the altercation. And there is only so much I can do as an advocate for you. Eventually, this is going to escalate beyond a detention. Then, what will you do?"

For once, even flippancy failed him.

End of Part 2


	3. Part 3

Transient Reality: Part 3

"So, what did Mr. Wilson want?"

"Nothing." Jake tugged his locker open and stared inside, not really seeing the contents. Instead, his mind kept going back over the conversation with Mr. Wilson. He hadn't agreed to apply for an early graduation, but he had promised the older man that he would give it some serious thought.

"It's your future, Jake," Mr. Wilson said before finally dismissing Jake from their impromptu meeting.

Jake was sorely tempted to respond, "No thanks, I've already got one," but even as he thought it, he realized that he didn't know how true that was anymore. Certainly, if he did get expelled, he would have no trouble finding a space reserved for him at the Air Force Academy; the Air Force in all their wisdom and planning fully expected him to pursue that particular road. However, Jake had spent the past year working hard to become Jacob Bartidge and not simply Jack O'Neill: The Early Years and Jacob Bartidge wasn't one hundred percent certain that following the familiar road was the best way to go.

That was the reason that he decided to consider his love of astronomy and math and apply himself more towards physical sciences this time around. Plus, he hoped that someday he might actually finally figure out half of what it was that Carter had ever tried to explain to him. Jake wasn't stupid; never had been, but he just wasn't focused on science because scientists unnerved him. Then he met Daniel and Carter and suddenly scientists weren't really that unnerving. Annoying, yes, but that could have just been Daniel and Carter.

Not that Jake didn't imagine that he wouldn't someday end up in the Air Force, or at least employed by the SGC again. He had a taste of what was out there, of visiting other worlds, and he couldn't imagine never stepping through the stargate again. But wouldn't it be a riot if he came at it from the civilian direction this time around?

"Man, we've been waiting on you for half an hour and you're going to tell me 'nothing'? That's a whole lot of nothing, Jake."

Jake peered around the corner of his locker door at the young man standing there. No, not standing, slouching, because slouching was what River did best. In all the time that Jake knew him, he couldn't recall a time that River actually pulled himself up to his full height of six feet even. He did his level best, whenever possible, to lean and slouch, so much so that Jake was inclined to believe Katie's description that River had perfected that slouch to an art.

_"Look, man, when the slowest kid on the basketball team had more skill on the court than I do, the last thing you want people doing is noticing how tall you are. Especially if you're black."_ That had been the explanation Jake received when he asked River if he was just lazy or found it morally objectionable to have a straight spine.

Of course, it was two weeks later in a game of one on one that Jake learned that River didn't necessarily lack skill on the basketball court, he just lacked the kind of skill a high school coach would expect a six foot tall sixteen year old to possess. Jake soon discovered that River's parents, aside from "giving me a name that would have earned all kinds of ass-kicking's if I hadn't always been one of the biggest kids in class," also hadn't stressed a physical competitiveness in their son. They wanted to River to excel - academically - and that meant that they didn't have time to sign him up for midget football, but chess club and martial arts, which stressed mental discipline, had been all the rage while River was growing up.

The one thing that Jake had not learned from River yet, even after a year of friendship, was where the hell his parents got the name River from.

Now, the same young man lacking extraordinary basketball skills and with a name of unknown origins was staring at Jake with a look that clearly said, "Don't try to pull that 'nothing' bullshit on me."

Or maybe the look only clearly said that because those were the next words out of his friend's mouth.

Jake shrugged and turned his attention back to rooting around inside of his locker. "He expressed some concern that I might be paving the road to an easy expulsion."

River snorted. "Wow, Mr. Wilson is slipping. I didn't think he'd started giving out lectures on the obvious."

"Oh, so what? Now you think I've been working my ass off, getting good grades so that I can get thrown out on my ass too?" Jake bristled, his head snapping up again as he shoved a book into his backpack. He glared at River, even though that meant that he had to tilt his head up despite the patented slouch. "I thought that, you know, being my friend, you might be on my side."

"This ain't about taking sides, man," River pulled himself to his full height, a sure sign that Jake had managed to needle him. As was the fact that he'd slipped into what River's parents called 'street speak' and frequently chastised him for. "This is about you keepin' your head so that Skinner don't get no ideas about throwin' you out. I mean, what would your uncle say?"

Probably the same thing that Mr. Wilson said, but that wasn't the point. "Are you saying that I should have just walked away and let Cameron paw at Katie like that?"

There was a lull before River answered, a lull in which Jake gave a triumphant, silent cheer for himself. A cheer that he quickly retracted when River finally spoke, his voice low and calm. "Katie thinks so."

"Oh for crying out loud! You got to be kidding me!" Jake slammed his locker, the reverberating clang of metal against metal roaring for loudness in the practically deserted hallway. "Did I miss a memo? Did she lose a couple of brain cells last night? Or, I don't know, maybe her whole brain?"

If Jake's outburst startled him, River gave no outward reaction. He shrugged, the slouch returning. "She just said that she could take care of herself and you shouldn't be getting in trouble because of her. She's actually pretty pissed at you for playing 'macho man.' "

"What?!" Jake nearly swallowed his tongue. This was one of those moments when he was truly glad that he was only seventeen years old; he didn't have to worry about his blood pressure suddenly going through the roof and having a stroke on the spot. Or rather, he hoped that he was still too young to have to worry about that sort of thing.

"She could be right, though. You know, Katie can take care of herself."

"So I was just supposed to stand by and let Cameron maul her, was that it? Maybe she thinks she can handle herself, and maybe standing in a hallway surrounded by students, she could. But you know how guys like Cameron are, River! You heard them talking, you've got to know how they are in action. It wouldn't have stopped with a grope in the hallway and you know it."

"I don't know it and you don't know it either, man. Look, I love Katie like a sister, all right? But I've known her a lot longer than you have. The girl's got balls sometimes. Big nasty brass ones."

Jake slung his backpack over his shoulder, knowing when it was time to stop arguing with River. A year later and there were times when that wall of solidarity came up between River and Katie and Jake knew there was nothing he could do to make it come down. Despite their maturity and intelligence, sometimes Jake was painfully reminded that River and Katie were just kids. They didn't have fifty years of experience behind him and they could often only see using tunnel vision.

"Where is she?" Jake demanded. If he couldn't talk sense to River, then maybe, just maybe he could make Katie see reason. Failing that, he could at least make her understand that his actions had nothing to do with 'playing macho man.'

River stopped short and frowned. "What?"

"Katie. Where is she?"

"I don't know." River shrugged. "She said she was going over to her Aunt Lilly's, you know if her old man was at home. But you know Katie, she doesn't always make it to Aunt Lilly's." There was more left unsaid than what was actually said.

It wasn't a secret that Katie frequently visited her eighty-one year old great aunt, taking care of household chores and errands for the elderly woman. It also wasn't a secret that even more frequently Katie used Aunt Lilly as an excuse to apparently drop off the face of the earth for hours or sometimes days at a stretch. It was another one of those 'friends since grade school' solidarity things between Katie and River; no matter how much Jake nudged and dug, River insisted that he didn't have a clue of where Katie liked to hide when she wasn't at Aunt Lilly's.

Unfortunately, River was a terrible liar. A terrible liar, but a loyal friend because Jake still hadn't sniffed out a hint of where in all of Colorado Springs, or even all of Colorado, Katie could manage to hide.

"You think that maybe Katie will show up for school tomorrow?" Jake asked.

River pulled off another disinterested shrug. "If she feels like it. You know Katie."

"And why is it that I'm the one that Mr. Wilson thinks should apply for early graduation before I get expelled? Is it my imagination or doesn't the school have some rules for unexcused absences?"

"Whoa, man, hold up. Early graduation? No shitting?"

"Did you even hear my other question?"

"You gonna do it?"

"I don't know. I haven't had that long to think about it."

"You have to think about it? What the fuck is wrong with you, Jake? I'm taking college courses and I can't even get out of this place early. You got a teacher rooting for you, and you have to think about it?"

"It's a big decision."

"Nothing big about it," River pushed open the doors to the outside, and they both momentarily stopped and blinked in the bright sunlight. Slipping a hand into his jacket pocket, River pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slide them into place. "Opportunity is a-knocking. Half the kids around here would give their left nut to jump ship and not put up with Skinner's shit and half the other political crap that goes on around here."

Jake followed suit, sunglasses slipping home to shield his eyes from the bright day. "So you'd do it? Just like that?"

"Yes, I would. Besides, even if I thought about not doing it, you know my folks would rip me a new one and apply in my name anyway." River peered at Jake over the top of his glasses, dark brows rising to his hairline. "Or is this actually about not knowing whether or not you want to cross into the blue?"

"Do you mind trying not to sound like an Air Force commercial?"

River smirked and smoothly changed the subject, "So, we going to shoot some hoops tonight?"

"Yeah, I kind of feel like I need to wipe the court clean with you."

"Jako, you can just keep --" River came to a sudden halt, his face tightening as he gazed off across the student parking lot.

"River, what --" It took Jake a few seconds longer to find the source of River's distraction, mainly because he lacked River's height. Those few seconds were probably a good thing because it meant his head didn't explode immediately. "No, no, no!"

Jake broke into a run across the parking lot, stopping dead in his tracks in front of his truck. The one that he could have sworn when he left it in the student lot that morning had unbroken taillights and headlights, and did not have the word FAGGOT painted across the hood and doors in huge black spray paint.

Fifty years of experience and memories, memories of black ops training and fighting aliens and all Jake could do was stare at his car, his jaw working silently.

"Say again why this early graduation would be a bad thing?"

"River. Shut. Up."

End of Part 3


	4. Part 4

Transient Reality: Part IV

Jake was relatively pleased that his week didn't get any worse. Between the detention, the lecture and the problem with his truck on Wednesday, Jake went home that night dreading the rest of the week. He avoided Mr. Wilson, aside from when he absolutely had to see the man in class, and he was sorely tempted to simply skip class. The other part of avoiding trouble involved staying out of the way of any and all jocks and bullies. The easiest way to do that was simply to put his earphones on, turn up the mp3 player and shoot from one class to another like a squad of Jaffa with zat guns and staff weapons were right on his heels.

River accompanied him to drop off his car at the body shop Thursday evening, and though Jake grumbled about the deductible, he was relieved that vandalism was covered under his insurance plan. It hadn't helped deal with the snickers and raised eyebrows when he arrived at school Thursday morning driving the truck which loudly proclaimed how the jocks had gotten back at him, but he comforted himself in the knowledge that by Saturday afternoon his baby would be back in his possession, and devoid of any evidence of the less than subtle attempt at intimidation.

Katie, predictably enough, took a long weekend and did not appear for classes on Thursday or Friday. Jake alternated between worried and pissed off, even more so towards the latter when River intimated that he knew where Katie was and that she was perfectly fine.

"Just having another one of her Katydid moments," River remarked when he dropped Jake off at home Friday night.

Katie hated that nickname; River and Jake delighted in calling her by it. Unfortunately, it was a waste of breath with her all too conspicuous absence.

Now, it was Saturday, and for some insane reason, Jake found himself leaning against the outside wall of his apartment building before ten hundred hours waiting for River to pick him up. Yet another problem with being physically seventeen and attending high school, but having the life experience of a fifty-year-old man was that nagging sense of responsibility. Rather than irresponsibly blowing off the research for his English project and kicking back to watch an afternoon of college ball, he was doing the conscientious thing and going to do actual schoolwork.

Then, they would pick up his truck. Which, Jake had to admit if only to himself, was the true impetus out of being willing to trek over the university library with River on a Saturday morning.

A horn honked as though to get his attention, but it was truly unnecessary. It wasn't possible that Jake, or anyone else looking, could miss the sleek silver Lexus that pulled up to the curb in front of his building. Grabbing his backpack up, Jake made it to the car in a few strides, pulled open the back door and tossed his bag inside. "Dad's car? What was the occasion? Decided to apply to Harvard after all?"

"It's Saturday," River replied, "Everyone deserves a little luxury on the weekend, Jako."

Jake slid into the front seat, enjoying the feel and smell of the leather interior. "He's out of town on a conference, huh?"

A large mischievous grin broke out across River's face as he put the car into drive and eased away from the curb. "Oh yeah. Mom too. And you know, I couldn't let this baby just sit there for two weeks without seeing any action."

"So it has nothing to do with your other choice being to drive 'the family car'?" Jake teased, recalling how many times he watched River pull into the student lot in the Dodge Grand Caravan, complaining loudly the whole entire time.

"It's a sad state of the times, really. I mean, I wouldn't be forced to have make these types of hard choices if they would just get me my own car."

"Yeah, but you know what happens when you give teenage boys cars. They stop studying, start dating, getting laid –"

River shot him the expected offended glare. "FYI, Jake, I don't need a car to get laid."

"No, River, you need to date to get laid." Jake smirked and glanced out of the window. He straightened up in his seat as his eyes landed on what appeared to be a familiar figure walking in the distance.

"You're not exactly Hugh Hefner over there, man. I mean, when was the last time you had a date? Spring formal? Leslie –"

"River, slow down and pull over," Jake cut him off with a negligent wave of his hand. "That's Katie up there."

"Your point?"

Jake swiveled his head to look at River, not surprised to see that his friend was giving him a completely innocent look of vacancy and annoyed by the fact that Jake had expected precisely that. "Maybe she needs a ride."

"And maybe she doesn't want one," River argued. Despite the argument, the car slowed and began drifting towards the solitary walking figure. "She knew we were going to the library today. She told me that she was going to study somewhere else."

"Why?"

River simply raised his eyebrows.

"Oh for crying out loud!" Jake rolled the window down as the car fell into pace with the walking girl. Her head was down, the earphones from her mp3 player blocking out all noise from the street. Dark red hair was pulled back in a braid, and it was clear from her brisk determined strides that she hadn't even noticed the car pulled up along side her.

Jake shook his head and swore silently. And the girl wanted to know why he got protective with Cameron? When she took a casual stroll and didn't even notice she was being stalked? Albeit, a really nice luxury car was stalking her, that still didn't change the facts.

As if she were reading his thoughts, Katie stopped abruptly and turned her head just enough to get a good view of the car. An unruly lock of long red hair flopped across her cheek and she pushed it back into place, her green eyes flickering with annoyance. "Believe it or not, Jake Bartidge, I am perfectly capable of walking to the public library without getting attacked by hormonally challenged football players."

Now where in the hell had that come from?

"You could just go the university library with us?" Jake offered, flashing her what he hoped was his most charming and apologetic smile.

"I like the public library."

"But the university library has better books." That argument didn't even make sense to Jake, but he plunged on anyway. Illogical arguments weren't really anything new to him, and at least these days he could chalk them up to being seventeen. "They have the, you know, bigger, more academicism ones."

Katie rolled her eyes, "I don't even think that's a word."

"It is," River called out. "Not the way Jake used it, but it is."

"See?" Jake smiled more brightly, "The walking dictionary knows. It is a word."

"I really don't want to talk to you right now, Jake."

"So what? You'd rather just stew and simmer and stay mad at me? That's really counterproductive, Katie. You should just yell at me, call me a misogynist and move on with it. It's better for all of us, and it's really better for our group project in physics class." Jake paused and tilted his head pleadingly when he noticed that both River and Katie were completely silent. Katie was giving him a look that made him wonder if he hadn't grown another head and a quick glance at River revealed pretty much the same.

"What? What did I say?"

"Man, you just used misogynist in a sentence, and you used it the right way," River explained.

"Don't sound so surprised. I used unequivocally with Mr. Wilson the other day, too."

River poked him. Hard.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"Just making sure you're you."

"Just because I can't recite the dictionary backwards doesn't mean – " Jake stopped in mid-rant as Katie spun on her heel and continued walking. "Katie! Come back here! River, catch up to her!"

"Because she walks so incredibly fast that it is entirely possible she could outrun a motor vehicle traveling at full speed," River quipped, yet he eased the car forward to keep pace with their friend. "And by the way, man, you're not a misogynist unless you've taken to hating women. I think you want Katie to call you a chauvinist."

Jake chose to ignore the impromptu English lesson.

"Come on, Katie, at least give me a chance to defend myself," Jake called out of the open window. Or at least a chance to try talking some sense into you, he added silently.

Katie kept walking.

"I know you're a big girl, and I'm sorry if I stepped on your toes or something. My dad was old fashioned. I was raised that way." It wasn't a total lie. His dad was old-fashioned, relatively speaking.

"Look, girl, at least get in the car and ride with us so people stop staring at us like we're pedophiles or something," River added.

That made her stop. "River, you and Jake don't even look old enough to buy beer. I think the pedophile argument is really pushing it."

"Yeah, but it does look like a black guy in a nice car is giving a pretty white girl a hard time, so get. In. The. Car. Already."

With a roll of her eyes and an exasperated sigh expressing how she felt about being coerced in such a way, Katie yanked open the back door. She tossed herself against the backseat, snorting loudly, "Since when did you start playing the race card, Riv?"

River glanced at her in the rearview mirror and snorted. "Katydid, don't even. You're just mad because my argument actually made sense."

Katie chose to ignore the use of the hated nickname. "Why are you driving your dad's car anyway?"

"Because I can."

"So, they're both out of town?" Katie leaned forward, reaching between the two seats to roam radio stations. Both River and Jake swatted her hands away with admonishments to keep away from the radio.

"You do not touch the driver's tunes. It's a rule, woman!" River snapped.

"And we don't want to listen to that rap crap that you call music anyway."

"It's not rap, it's hip-hop."

"It's still crap," River remarked.

"River, you are so white that it's embarrassing," the corners of Katie's mouth turned up in a teasing smile.

River grinned back easily in return, although Katie could really only see the side of his head, "Watch it, cracker."

Jake took advantage of the light heartedness and playfulness between his friends to peek around the seat. "So, are we all cool now?"

Katie's eyes narrowed as she gazed back at him, her arms folded across her chest. Jake waited for an explosion, but it never came. Instead, she rolled her eyes and shook her head. "See, this is why I always avoid you guys when I'm mad at you. I can't stay mad at either of you for long enough to even make a point."

"And what point were you trying to make?" Jake asked lightly, "That you could walk to the public library by yourself?"

His answer was a sharp kick to the back of his seat.

Four hours later, Jake was more than ready to leave the library. Yes, he managed to get more research and information for his paper than he would have managed at the public library. Yes, watching the three sorority girls from the table strategically selected by River was a pleasant distraction when research and reading got to be too boring. However, there was only so much study time that even Jake could handle and that was saying a lot for someone who had spent seven years biding time and trying to curb boredom while other folks twiddled with thingamabobs and rocks.

Now Jake had his resources, the sorority girls were gone, he was hungry and most importantly, he was itching to go and pick up his truck. The last of those was the thing that was currently the most important obsession on his mind. And truthfully, he wasn't that far from his goal: if River would stop flirting with the girl at the copy machine.

"He so does not have a chance," Katie observed, rejoining Jake from her side trip to the ladies' restroom.

"Doesn't mean he won't keep us here all day," Jake reminded her.

"Yeah, I know. I'm going to go have a smoke. You want to come with?" His answer must have been apparent before he even opened his mouth because Katie stopped him with a finger held up, "And don't even start on me about how I should quit. This is my first one of the day, so hey, a little bit of credit here all right?"

With that, she ducked into the stairwell beside the elevator, the clunking of her army boots echoing down the stairs. Jake took a minute to consider his options. He glanced at River and then with a nostalgic smile and shake of his head, followed after Katie. "Shouldn't we tell River where we're going?"

"Don't worry about it. He'll know where to find us."

Jake would have objected, but realized the truth of words. Oddly enough, no matter when, where or how, if the three of them got separated, River always seemed to know how to find the straggler.

They reached the landing and stepped out into smoking dock behind the library. Katie immediately produced a cigarette from the folds of her jacket, and turned away from the wind as she tried to light it. Which was probably why she failed to notice to three men stepping out onto the dock behind them. Jake, however, did notice them and something about them made all of his years of special ops training move to the forefront of his mind.

"Hey, maybe we should step into the student quad and wait for him?" Jake suggested, taking Katie's elbow and leading her a few steps away.

Unfortunately, the unexpected action only made her stumble and turn to glare at him. "Jake, what's your problem?"

"Katerena Lyons?" One of the men stepping onto the dock behind them inquired.

Katie turned; Jake turned and grabbed her elbow. The action earned him another glare, but also put a few feet of distance between Katie and the men.

They were all non-descript, the only remarkable thing about them being that they were unremarkable. Faces that would quickly fade from memory, faces that would never get noticed walking down a city street. They moved quickly and confidently, like predators and Jake got the distinct impression that he and Katie were the prey.

But why were they asking for Katie by name?

"That's me," Katie said, taking a deep drag on her cigarette.

"We've been looking for you, Ms. Lyons." One of the men flashed a badge, "I'm Detective Ross. We need you to come with us. It's about your father."

"Great," Katie made a snort of disgust and took another puff on the cigarette. "Dear Daddy got himself in trouble again. Just tell me who to see and I'll have my friends drive me over."

"Actually, Ms. Lyons," the man took a step closer, his eyes moving slowly from Katie to Jake and back again, "It's a bit more serious than that."

Jake knew that look. He was being sized up; he was also peripherally aware that the other two men were moving slowly towards them, but in an outward arc. If he and Katie didn't move soon, they would be trapped. And while he could possibly take down one or two of these men, he wasn't sure about the third one and he doubted Katie could; she might have really been able to handle herself against a football player, but this was different.

These brutes were dangerous.

"Could we see that badge again?" Jake asked, sidling up closer to Katie. This time, he slipped his arm around her waist and with every ounce of his being willed her to understand that this situation could definitely be defined as not good.

"What?" The man looked from Katie to Jake again, his stoic face briefly interrupted by a look of surprise.

"Your badge, Detective Ross. I just want to look at it." Jake eased a step backwards and Katie came with him willingly. He sensed a shifting her posture, a tightening of her back and muscles that told him that either she picked up on his vibe, or her own personal fight or flight responses had kicked in. Whichever it was, that was a good thing.

Jake's eyes quickly darted from 'Detective Ross' to the other two men, trying to gauge if any of them were carrying weapons. The best thing to do would be to grab Katie and run, but not if it meant they would be dodging bullets. And if he could delay them long enough, River would eventually show up . . .

And what, Jake? Just get trapped here with three thugs like you and Katie.

Nope, Jake realized he was on his own.

"Why do you want to see my badge kid?" Detective Ross laughed it off. "Been watching too many cop shows?"

"Something like that. Can't be too careful."

"All right, sure thing." The man reached into his coat again and removed a small, thin black sheath. Jake's mind assumed that it contained the fake badge. Jake made the leap to fake badge because the moment the man opened his coat, Jake caught a glimpse of something that no police detective on any precinct on earth would carry.

Hooked onto the man's hip holster was a zat'n'ktel, a bit of alien weapons technology.

That meant that he and Katie were in a whole world of trouble.

As soon as the badge came out, Jake realized too late that he wouldn't have time to spring a plan. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of coats opening and blurs of black and blue. He heard the discharge before he felt it, before he felt Katie jerk and fall down beside him trembling. Then the all too familiar prickling and shocking jolt of the zat gun reverberated through his body, knocking Jake down as well.

"Oh for crying out loud," Jake rasped, trying hard to shake the affects and rolling over onto his side. It didn't matter. It only served to allow him to see one of the other men place a white cloth over Katie's mouth and nose before the same softness of cloth touched his senses and the sickly sweetness of chloroform filled his nostrils.

Jake racked his brain, trying to make sense of it. It was the NID, it had to be. But if they wanted him, why come after Katie? Why go through Katie at all? His mind frantically tugged at the missing threads until blackness swallowed him up.

No one noticed the three men lift and carry two unconscious teenagers into the non-descript black van that pulled into the alleyway the smoking dock was located on.

No one noticed the teenager that came racing onto the deck, yelling the names of his friends as the van sped out of the alley and around the corner.

And the only creature that noticed when the teenager disappeared in a crackle of light and energy was a lonesome hungry tomcat, that arched its back, hissed and dove under the dumpster.

An hour later when the janitor brought out trash, the cat was still hissing.

End of Part 4


	5. Part 5

Transient Reality – Part 5

"I'm almost tempted to call his uncle. The only thing holding me back is that I know that if I do that, I'm going to destroy any or maybe all the trust that we've built up." Kevin Wilson sank into the leather armchair and passed a bottle of beer, and he did use the term 'beer' loosely when dealing with the American equivalent, to the man stretched out on the sofa with his feet propped on the coffee table.

"You can't make the decision for him, Kev. That's all part of growing up. He has to learn from his own mistakes." The redhead accepted the beer with a nod and took a long drink. "So, he gets into fights because he feels the need to defend the underdog? So what? There are a lot worse things he could be doing. And what I wouldn't have given to have him at school with us back in the day."

Kevin stared at the beer bottle but didn't drink from it. Instead he twirled the neck between his fingertips. "But getting expelled isn't one of those types of mistakes that a student like Jake should have learn from. He's too smart for that. I just get the feeling that there's a whole lot more going on with him than what's on the surface, MB."

"MB" Damon, the nickname derived from his nickname of his younger days, Megabyte, perked up a bit more attentively at Kevin's words, but did not move from his reclining position. "Then if you have a feeling about it, it means something and you should go with that feeling. But," MB continued when he saw Kevin about to continue in the same vein as before, "it doesn't mean that you can or should force him to do anything. He's seventeen, he's got to figure out for himself."

"And you were so good at figuring it out for yourself at seventeen?" Ami Jackson deposited a bowl of potato chips and pretzels on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch beside MB. "I seem to recall you make quite a few bumbling mistakes at that age."

"Like you're one to talk, Aims?"

The young British woman smiled, popping a pretzel into her mouth. Her next words came telepathically, "spoken" into the minds of her two friends. _My point exactly_.

"I'm just afraid of losing this one. He could slip through the cracks and I don't think that anyone would ever notice," Kevin remarked quietly, looking in earnest at his two closest friends and fellow Tomorrow People.

It was odd, Kevin reflected, that not so many years ago, he wasn't even admitting to being a Tomorrow Person and had cut himself off from contact with all of the other Tomorrow People. And in that not so many years ago time, it would have been even harder to imagine that one of the people in the room would become one of his closest friends. With MB, it was natural; they attended school together and somehow, they had fallen into friendship with one another, their common characteristic of being outsiders bringing them together in a bond of friendship. But Ami had joined the Tomorrow People when he'd been ill and unconscious; he spent months afterwards feeling like she was an interloper, the dreaded x-chromosome thief who snuck in while he was down and stole his friends away from him.

It wasn't true, naturally, but at that time his perspective had been that of a thirteen-year-old boy. He wasn't given to logic and reason. When his parents caught wind of what he was, what the Tomorrow People were, instead of taking pride in their son's gifts, they swept him away to a private boarding school and forbid him to have anything to do with the others ever again. He listened to them because he really didn't think he had any other choice. He believed them when they said he was a "freak," and that if he really wanted to be normal, he could be.

Four years later, he realized precisely how wrong his parents had been, that "normal" would never be a word to describe Kevin Wilson even if he hadn't been a telepathic, telekinetic, teleporting teenager. With that realization came a return to the fold, and to his surprise, a warm welcome with open arms; even from Ami whom he hadn't exactly been the nicest to before departing.

Likely it was his entire history with his parents, and the not so happy experiences with school as well, that made him want to be a teacher; that made him reach out to his students. Kevin took an interest in all his students, but his tele-empathy drew him to certain ones, the "lost ones," was the best description that Kevin could give to them. They were the ones who, like him, were outsiders; they had brains, or good looks, or physical talent, but they were lacking the support network they needed at home. They appeared strong, but inside they were longing to make a connection; they needed support though they would never admit it to anyone, not even themselves.

That was what drew him to River Warrendale even before he got an inkling that the boy was on the verge of becoming a Tomorrow Person. On the outside, River had it all. He was smart, he was good looking, his parents were wealthy and he never wanted for anything in his life. Teachers and students saw River as the smart kid who thought everyone, aside from his best friend since grade school, as beneath him. Kevin saw a boy who took refuge in his books and studies because it was the one thing that got him attention from his parents; it was the one place that River knew he could hold his own.

"Have you talked with him any further about early graduation?" Ami asked, her demeanor shifting from the playful teasing to serious. "From what you've said in the past, that sounds as though it is probably the best option for someone like Jake."

Kevin snorted and shook his head. "He's been avoiding me since I brought it up. I know that he probably thinks I don't notice, but it's not exactly subtle. He shows up right before class bell and somehow manages to be one of the first ones out of the door. I couldn't find him anywhere after class on Friday, and River wasn't being much help. He kept insisting he didn't know where Jake went when he left school."

"You didn't believe him?" The inquiry was gentle, a soft sympathetic smile playing on her lips. She knew the answer before she asked the question because for all that River was a terrible liar, he was a fiercely loyal and devoted friend. Though Kevin was a Tomorrow Person, he was also an adult and Jake's teacher; there were certain lines that simply were not crossed.

Kevin merely gave her a look that he hoped spoke volumes.

"As much as I feel your plight and know that you need to reflect on this, Kevin, it's like two minutes to kick off." MB straightened up and snatched up the television remote. He hit the mute button to un-mute the set, "Can we just watch the game?"

"I've lived her for four years and I still can't make any sense of this particular past time." Ami slumped back against the couch, frowning at the television. "Professional football, yes, that makes sense. I understand putting everything on hold on a Sunday afternoon to watch a professional ball game and socialize with friends. But I certainly don't understand the draw of college ball."

MB rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You've watched UCCS games."

"That's because I'm a graduate student there. It's expected."

"Expected?"

"You know, school spirit, that sort of thing." Ami propped her feet up on the table and crossed her legs at the ankles. "But what I really don't understand is why you have to invade my home for this every weekend."

"Hey!" Kevin objected around the beer bottle mouth. _I'm a good boarder. I pay my rent. What are you complaining about?_

"Besides, you have a great entertainment system with surround sound," MB added. "All courtesy of Robert Calder."

"Yes, well it's his own fault. He never should have allowed himself to be caught screwing that tart in my bed." Ami's mouth curled into a vindictive little smile as she said the words, a smile that Kevin was glad was not directed at him, but rather at the memory of how she returned the favor and screwed her ex-husband. Figuratively, of course.

"Yes, and each and every time we watch a game here, I thank him for being such an ass, and you for being such a vindictive bitch." MB extended his beer bottle to her.

Ami gave her head a soft shake, but tapped her own bottle against his. "You're very welcome."

Their bottles remained that way a moment, touching neck to neck while his two friends shared a small, private smile. Kevin shifted in his seat, taking another drink and turning his full attention to the television to allow them to have their moment. Although they weren't together anymore as a couple, and hadn't been since two years before Ami's disastrous marriage, no one who knew MB and Ami could deny or ignore that those two had a peculiar bond that would probably never be severed.

"Kickoff," Kevin announced as the team gathered on the field.

"Yes, it's game time," MB clapped his bottle on the table and leaned forward, eyes trained on the television while Ami continued to recline against the sofa feigning utter boredom.

That was when he felt it. A sudden rush of anxiety, pain, fear and horror so strong that he nearly dropped the bottle he was holding. The room swam in front of him, and for a brief moment Kevin found it difficult to separate out the emotions that were surrounding him from his own emotions so overwhelming it was. Then came the taste, the cloying oversweet sick taste coating his tongue and causing him to toss back a few large gulps of beer before he even thought about it.

Only then, as he noticed peripherally that MB and Ami were doing the same did he register that the sensation wasn't his and his alone.

"Bloody hell," Ami gasped, cool bottle pressed to her forehead. She took a few steadying breaths. "What -"

"Shit," MB swore. He had jumped to his feet and was anxiously rubbing the back of his neck. Kevin knew that they, like he, could feel the sudden awareness of all The Tomorrow People that something was very Wrong.

Somewhere in the world, something had happened to one of their own.

Before Kevin could quite form his mouth around the right question to ask, the all too familiar tickling at the back of his mind and prickling of hairs on his arm began.

In a flash of light and energy, River appeared in the middle of Ami Jackson's family room in the same way he disappeared from the alley. The young man crossed the room in two strides, desperation and worry rolling off of him in waves. "Kevin! We have to do something! They've got Katie and Jake!"

End of Part 5


	6. Part 6

Transient Reality – Part 6

MB barely noticed as he stepped through the labyrinth of metal detectors, x-rays, card scanners and palm scanners that effectively guarded the entrance into the main lobby of the WorldEx, New York branch. He was focused elsewhere, designing and formulating a plan to track down the true owner of the black van that drove off with Katie and Jake Bartidge in the back of it.

He cleared out of Ami and Kevin's not long after River arrived in his state of almost complete panic. Not that MB blamed River for being shaken up by the events of the afternoon; the past few years had been quiet and safe for The Tomorrow People. MB didn't actually think that any of the newer breakouts of the last three or so years had to contend with people coming after them for their abilities. And perhaps that was the problem, things had been so quiet and so safe that they had all been lulled into a false sense of security.

Or maybe it was just cyclical. Whatever the case it would make an interesting algorithmic study – after they found Katie and Jake.

MB left the calming of River and communication with the others to Kevin and Ami, they were better at that type of thing anyway, and took off for his Manhattan loft and secured network the moment he managed to wrangle a van description and license plate from River. Unfortunately, the resources he had at his disposal at home were severely limited, particularly if he was trying to keep off of the radar of the super hackers and super programmers in the hacking world.

Which was why MB now found himself making idle chat with the Saturday afternoon security guard at WorldEx while the man checked his identification badge, signature card, and waited for MB's prints to be confirmed by the computer database. He peeked over the guard's console, catching a glimpse of a college football game and smiled slightly.

"Unless I miss my guess, I'm the most excitement you've had all day," MB remarked to the man, indicating the television screen with a nod of his head.

The guard startled and grinned, a wave of embarrassment radiating from him although no sign of it showed on his features. "Usually Saturdays are a bit busier, but today is definitely quite. Everybody must be taking advantage of one of the good weather. It won't last long."

"That's for sure," MB agreed, tapping his fingers impatiently against the desktop. He really wanted to get to his office and tap into the resources that WorldEx put at his fingertips, but security protocols had to be maintained. For a brief moment on his way into the office, he actually debated just skipping the rigamarole for once, but then realized that he really didn't want to have to deal with his father or Frank Addison when they realized precisely how MB had gotten around security.

"You're all clear, Mr. Damon." The guard returned his badge to him with a smile. "Have a good afternoon."

"You too," MB thanked the man and turned away heading for the elevators. The elevators, which while visitors and fellow employees alike commented on the speed of the things, they were no nowhere near as fast as teleportation. At times like this, when speed was of the essence, MB longed for the days when he couldn't have given a rat's ass about security, protocol and keeping up appearances. Then again, those were the days when a different danger reared its head around the Tomorrow People on what seemed to be a quarterly, and sometimes monthly basis. It was only with age and wisdom and the realization that in order to protect themselves they would have to work harder than ever to hide themselves from prying eyes.

Yet somehow, somewhere along the line they clearly neglected to impart that important bit of knowledge to the younger Tomorrow People. MB wondered how many times Katie and River teleported to the Spaceship, buried a mile under the sands of a deserted Pacific island, without even giving a second thought to whether or not they might have been spotted. With the amount of time that Katie spent either at the 'Ship, or in London trailing around after Jade or Lisa, it had to have happened frequently. Not that he was blaming her for what happened; if anyone was at fault it was the older Tomorrow People for being so lax with the younger ones.

MB paused only briefly when he reached the Information Services department, taking time to note if anyone, other than the weekend network monitors, were on the floor. Not that he was worried about someone looking over his shoulder; he was one of the top security administrators and programmers in the department. He could cover his tracks with the best of them, if anyone bothered to check and see what he did and where he went with the security codes and clearance that WorldEx gave to him. No, the reason he double-checked was because he really wasn't in the mood for small talk, and he definitely didn't want to deal with anyone offering to "help" him. This was a personal and private matter, and though he could lie about the true reasons, he just preferred to avoid the complication at all.

He noticed the light on and open door further down the hall and winced. It would have to be Reed at the office on a Saturday afternoon. Reed, whom was always trying to make a name for himself and move up the corporate ladder. Donovan Reed who had decided that apparently the best way to get ahead was to attach himself at the hip to the son of General William Damon. Praying that fate would allow him to avoid Reed, MB unlocked his office, ducked inside and closed the door behind him. After a moment of consideration, he locked the door as well.

It wouldn't really help if Reed discovered MB was there and truly wanted to talk to him, but hopefully it would slow him down long enough for MB to erase what he was doing before Reed decided to check up on him.

He dropped his carryall next to his desk and turned on his workstation, his eyes briefly darting around to take in the clutter that lined his desk and office. Snippets of code, comics and programming code decorated the walls of his office; Mary Ann, the administrative assistant, always complained about the mess that MB had in his office.

"What you call mess, I call organized chaos," MB always told her with a bright, boyish smile meant to charm her from her head to her toes. It had to work, because Mary Ann always wandered off with a blush to leave him to his own devices.

Reaching out a hand, MB straightened his MIT Bachelor's Degree and a few assorted pictures, mostly of he, Kevin and Ami and turned his attention back to the computer as it finished all booting up and came to his logon screen. Less than three determined minutes later, he had skipped through all the security protocols, verified and re-verified himself, started the program that he wrote specifically to ghost and stealth his way through WorldEx's systems and began looking for the driver's license.

It was not a moment too soon.

_MB, did you get anything on that license yet?_ Kevin's words rang out in his head.

_Not yet_, MB responded, expanding his search beyond Colorado. _At least nothing useful. All I could get from the Colorado DMV was that it was registered to Santian Corporation._

_Then you did get something_. The second voice belonged to River, who actually sounded considerably calmer than he had when MB left him with Kevin and Ami.

Yeah, but I'm betting my X-Box that Santian Corporation either doesn't exist or is a front for something else. I want to dig around a little more before going out on a limb on this.

There was a pause while the others considered his words. Then Kevin's voice came again, _Do you have an address for this Santian Corporation?_

Ami's words followed on the heels of Kevin's, her voice softer, the timbre and tone telling MB that her words were directed to him and only to him. _River needs to do this, MB. We'll just take him over and take a quick look at the place._

_One minute, I'm checking something out,_ MB told Kevin and River, and then added to Ami, _And if it's not a dummy corporation?_

_Trust us_.

_Famous last words_. His response was immediately greeted by the image of Ami rolling her eyes in exasperation. He stuck his tongue out at her in a stunning display of maturity and 'pathed the address back to them openly. _I'll keep you posted if I learn anything else._

With gracious thank you's, MB felt his friends recede from his mind and he threw his full concentration on the task at hand. Tracing the true source of Santian Corporation and trying to learn who these people were and why they kidnapped a Tomorrow Person.

End of Part 6


	7. Part 7

Transient Reality – Part 7

Dr. Vanessa Denning strode to the head of the hospital bed, her gray eyes moving slowly from monitor to monitor. She noted with satisfaction that each was as it should be; heart rate was normal, as was blood pressure. The EKG was not normal, however, the EKG was the one thing that she fully expected to be different. The EKG of the _homo superior_ created in the laboratory trials had been slightly different from those of a normal, average _homo sapiens_. Not so much that it would stand out unless one knew what to look for. Slightly higher peaks where there should be short peaks, and deeper valleys where there should only be slight dips or rolling hillsides.

Scribbling a note on the EKG tape, she turned her attention to the chart hanging on the bed and made a few additional notes there as well. That done, she checked the IV line going into the left arm of the subject, tapping it ever so slightly to make certain the drug was indeed mixing with the saline and working it way into the subject's unconscious form. She checked pulse and pupil dilation, and her mouth curled into a faint smile. Yes, this specimen was perfect, worth all of the surveillance and waiting. No doubt her compatriots and superiors didn't see it that way, but it wasn't up to her to make them understand. That was the Colonel's job; and after the last debacle where The Trust interrupted her work because of his lack of initiative, Vanessa doubted she would have that problem again.

"How are they?" As though summoned by her thoughts, Colonel Masters strolled into the laboratory, his eyes flickering distastefully, and unless Vanessa missed her guess, somewhat fearful over the two 'patients' in the hospital beds.

"They're both fine. Sleeping for now and I should be able to keep them under for as long as necessary," Vanessa remarked coolly. She stepped around the man who insinuated himself in her path and moved from the female's bedside to the male's.

"You seem less than enthused or impressed by these children, Vanessa."

Vanessa bristled inwardly but gave no outward sign of it. "They are not children, Colonel. They are subjects. And for what reason should I be impressed by the physiology of two seventeen year old human subjects?"

"This is the first opportunity that you have had to work with a true teleporter, a true example of, what do you call it, homo supine?"

"Homo superior," Vanessa answered and immediately hated herself for rising to the bait. She recorded the normalcy of the male's vital signs from the monitors. "And I have worked with such before. I do believe that is why The Board and you brought me on board for this particular project. If I recall correctly, it was actually my work with manipulating the genetics that create homo superior that first brought me to the attention of The Trust."

Vanessa studied the male's EKG, and blinked in surprise. Well, that was completely unexpected. She paused, made a note on the tape and made a mental note to herself. This was one point that would bear watching. It would be best to not report it until she could verify with it with additional study. And it was certainly not something she would share with Colonel Masters. When the time came, she would present this information to her superiors.

"And before then, I do believe all your subjects had a tendency to, er, expire within days?"

"Unless you are a geneticist or biologist, Colonel, I would suggest that you take care before mimicking my work. Manipulating DNA and bioengineering viruses to transform DNA is not an easy task. Unlike some people, I am grateful for the information that The Trust was able to provide to me, even if was based on the inaccurate and flawed experiments of Dr. Kefflar."

"I'm not sure why you would consider the experiments flawed," Colonel Masters remarked, standing over the bed of the female subject. "I've read the reports. He did amazing work. He made more progress than had ever been made creating an alien/human hybrid."

"Yes, and his creation killed him and everyone involved with the project." Vanessa pointed out. "I may not have had success with keeping my subjects alive, but at least mine have not turned homicidal. But, more importantly, Colonel, my subjects are controllable. I dare say that not a single individual whom has done similar work can say the same.

"Now, was there something you needed? I need to prepare the subjects for testing."

"There is time yet, dear doctor. The containment field is still being calibrated. We wouldn't want our prized possession to just beam herself away from here, now would we?" The Colonel leaned over the female, running his fingers over the dark auburn tresses. Vanessa bit back the gag reflex that such an obviously perverse gesture of possession invoked in her. Not because she cared about the female beyond the scope of her genetics and her innate abilities to teleport, but because the Colonel did. He'd made it clear during their long days and weeks of surveillance that he felt the female could have 'other uses,' before The Trust was through with her. To Vanessa's way of thinking, in fact in all of her experience, there was no room for anything but clinical detachment. Those who began to see their subjects as something more, in any way shape or form, ultimately became dangerous to the project at hand.

She would keep a close eye on the Colonel to make sure he did not become a liability. If he did, then she would be forced to take care of the matter. It wasn't a thought that disturbed her in the least.

"Of course. It certainly wouldn't do for you to lose a teleporter after all these years of waiting to find another one," Vanessa said the words off-handedly, pretending to be more engrossed in the male subject's vital signs as opposed to focused at on Colonel Masters. However, she watched him from the corner of her eye and saw the man flinch ever so slightly, as though he'd gotten a mild chill.

Vanessa was as familiar with Master's work as Masters was with hers. She in all likelihood had greater familiarity with his work because she too had been hired by Lady Mulvaney, an eccentric rich bat who was looking to sell the secrets of teleporters to the highest bidder; that would have been after Vanessa had time to study the DNA and could copy it. The DNA secrets of the teleporters would be worth more in the long run than the teleporters themselves. For all that she was eccentric, Mulvaney was smart and her intentions had been to play all sides against one another. But, Colonel Masters screwed up; General Damon caught him and he lost the one teleporter that he managed to capture. As a result of that debacle, the teleporter, a sixteen-year-old female, and her mother disappeared as though they never existed and Masters spent several years in "protective custody" until their current employers found a method to liberate the man.

General Damon left the SIA, a precursor to the current organization that had in its youth insinuated itself slowly and secretively into the NID, and several other international organizations that governments denied existed and worked out of the shadows. He took SIA secrets and knowledge with him to WorldEx, an organization which passed itself off as a cultural liaison and security council but in actuality was an international version of the NSA working with the full cooperation of hundreds of world governments. Those Damon left behind very quietly tucked their tails between their legs and hid for a while nursing their wounds. But the shadow group rebuilt itself, hid itself even better, and rose from the ruins bigger and stronger.

Vanessa doubted that Damon and his compatriots at WorldEx even knew that agents of The Trust were in key positions right under their noses.

"You don't need to bother yourself worrying about that sort of thing, Dr. Denning. You just make sure that your little drugs work to hold her 'mind-reading' abilities at bay, and I'll concern myself with making sure that no one manages to 'pop off' unexpectedly."

"You don't believe that this girl is more than a teleporter, Colonel?"

"I believe in what I can see scientific proof of," Colonel Masters responded.

"You've read my reports, I'm certain."

"And they were quite fascinating, but I've only seen proof of teleportation. While I understand that our superiors would like to believe that these teleporters can do so much more than teleport, and truly if such was the case they would make formidable soldiers against the alien threat and our own earthly enemies, I will not raise my hopes to that level."

Colonel Masters checked his watch and strolled to the door. "I thank you for your time, Vanessa, but I must report in now. I will notify you when the containment field is ready and we can begin our work with the girl."

"And the male subject, Colonel? I assume that because he is not a teleporter that I am free to begin my research?"

"Not quite yet, doctor. Agent Tarkiff wants us to save the boy at the moment."

Vanessa frowned, gagging on the taste of bitter disappointment. "For what purpose?"

"Leverage, my dear doctor," Colonel Masters waved his hand towards the unconscious female subject. "We want to make certain we give the girl every reason to cooperate with us."

Then he walked out without a backwards glance, leaving Vanessa to glare after him in unspoken hatred.

End of Part 7


	8. Part 8

**Transient Reality – Part 8**

Santian Corporation turned out to be as complete of a dead-end lead as MB first suspected. The address of record for Santian Corporation was actually a deserted warehouse decorated by a For Sale sign that apparently was hanged there so long ago that it was beginning to rust. The building boasted several broken windows, a family of feral cats and a smell that Kevin revealed MB should "simply be grateful you're not here to experience it."

Ami described the malodorous environment in far more colorful and agitated terms, not the least of which included a mini-rant questioning whether she would ever be able to get the smell out of her clothes and hair with repeated showers that would probably cause her water and gas bill to skyrocket. Her other thought was that perhaps she should just burn the clothes and be done with it, followed with a lament on how much she really did like the boots she was wearing today.

River summed it up with a simple, "It smells like shit in here, man."

Confirming that the warehouse was a complete and total red herring, MB continued to plug away at various systems to locate more information on the "who" behind Santian Corporation. Kevin, Ami and River left the warehouse in favor of Taiphani Island and the well-hidden millennia old alien spacecraft that served as a safe haven for their kind to perform a "mind merge," or psychic scan for Katie with a few of the others.

While his friends and fellow Tomorrow Person probed for the elusive psychic signature of one kidnapped and clearly unconscious seventeen-year-old American red head girl, MB plugged away at the layers of camouflage used to hide where Santian Corporation came from. And, more importantly, where it had gone to and why anyone attached to that phantom corporation would want to kidnap a Tomorrow Person. As information scrolled across his computer monitor and downloaded to his laptop and a secured safe drive that he had created for himself, MB thought that he was having more luck than the others.

Without giving it a conscious thought, he turned his attention to the security camera hidden behind the drywall of his office, his mind and thoughts working to examine and pull apart the circuitry and re-programming the system to loop back on itself. Now, rather than recording it would continually play the same footage of MB diligently at work. That accomplished, his attention returned to his computer delving and the tampering with the camera fading to the back of his mind even as the familiar static and energy build up began in the air around him.

"Nothing?" MB asked, still not turning around.

"Not a bloody thing," Ami was annoyed and in his mind's eye, MB could see her shaking her head in frustration. "That was after we went back to the warehouse area."

That got his attention. He glanced over his shoulder, acknowledging Kevin with a brief nod. "You went back?"

Kevin leaned against the edge of the desk and folded his arms across his chest. "While the others were scanning for Katie, Ami and I thought we'd take another look around the warehouse –"

"For all the good that it did." Ami leaned over his shoulder. "It certainly looks like you haven't been idle."

"I might have gotten a few leads on the true origins of Santian Corporation."

MB felt, rather than saw, Kevin perk up at that. "What might you have gotten?"

"You're going to love this." MB swiveled around in his chair to face his friends. "Santian Corporation doesn't exist."

Ami and Kevin exchanged quick glances and looked back at him, quite unimpressed. _/You've already told us that,/_ they said in unison.

"Yeah, way to jump the gun you two. Just let me explain before you start making assumptions, all right?" MB looked from one to the other, waiting for an objection. When none was forthcoming, he continued. "Santian Corporation was a dummy corporation. There are tons of them out there and they're used for everything from money laundering to drug imports to bankrolling accounts for embezzlers. But there is always something that points back to the original corporation: tax records, invoices, and receipts, that sort of thing. It may take some digging to find it, but it can be done.

"Santian isn't like that. There was nothing more to this place than a false address and registered van. No bank accounts, no tax records, no bankruptcy records, absolutely nothing. What that tells me is that someone with a lot of money and a lot of connections, or maybe both, went through a lot of effort to hide Santian Corporation from the public sector. They even hid it from a vast majority of the private and security sectors. I'm betting that the FBI wouldn't be able to find the origins of this company unless they all ready knew where to look and what to look for."

Kevin pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "MB, that's … interesting . . . but what does it have to do --"

"With finding Katie?" MB interrupted. "More than you think. See, Kev, this type of hiding isn't done just for the heck of it. This type is deep. We're talking that someone with security did this, high security. Someone very well connected with the powers to make this type of thing happen. And someone with that kind of connection would have a very good chance of knowing about Tomorrow People from anything left behind by the SIA."

MB watched Kevin visibly flinch and stand up straighter. The relaxed demeanor vanished, replaced by rolling tension. "There aren't any SIA files left." It wasn't a question.

Ami hadn't had the pleasure of being 'acquainted' with Colonel Masters, Professor Galt and the SIA, but she knew enough about what happened before she broke out to also come to full attention. "I thought you said that WorldEx and the NID completely obliterated SIA."

"They did, but as much as we might not want to consider it, there's always the possibility that some information is still out there. Lady Mulvaney died about five years ago, but Masters and Galt are still alive, even if they are imprisoned. And one thing I've learned from working at WorldEx, these underground shadow agencies aren't as small or insignificant as the first world governments want us to think."

Kevin considered it. "You think that we're dealing with one of these secret organizations?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Then why Katie?" Kevin prompted. "Why not me? Why not you or Lisa?"

"Accessibility," MB answered without thought. "As far as the free world knows, Lisa Davis and her mother dropped off the face of the earth almost ten years ago. They don't know to look for Alyssa Michaels. There was never any proof that I was a 'teleporter' and even if someone found something recently the fact that I work for WorldEx and my father is one of the big higher ups is going to make them at least think twice about coming after me."

"But why not me?" Kevin repeated.

"Katie was easier to access," Ami supplied the answer. "You're too aware, too in tune to everything around you. You probably would have noticed if you were being followed or watched."

"You think this was planned?"

"It would have to have been, Kevin. We can't contact Katie. We've all tried and we're doing nothing but hitting a brick wall. Even if she was accidentally knocked out, we'd have some sense of her by now, you know that. But we don't have anything. It's as though she is being deliberately hidden from us.

"And as horribly frightening as it sounds, anyone who knows how to hide one of us that well, knows they what they were looking for and knew when they found it." Ami's bitterness and disgust were palatable as she wound down her explanation, folding her arms across her chest and staring off at some point on the floor to avoid eye contact with either of the men in the room.

Reaching out, MB placed a hand on her arm and gave it a comforting squeeze. He focused all the reassurance that he could through that tactile contact while keeping focused on the matter at hand. "I do have one final lead. I don't think we should get our hopes up, but it's certainly worth checking out.

"The best I could do to track Santian Corporation was to link it to one of its original investors, Carey Lawhorne."

Kevin blinked in surprise. "The pharmaceutical man?"

Now it was both MB and Ami's turn to mirror Kevin's surprise. MB shook his head, "I am not even going to ask how you knew that."

"Useless trivia," Kevin shrugged modestly.

"Not so useless anymore," Ami remarked quietly, then asked, "But so I'm not the only one without a clue, who is Carey Lawhorne?"

"The heir apparent to one of the largest pharmaceutical corporations in the US," MB punched in a few keystrokes in the computer, bringing up a full dossier on one Carey Elias Lawhorne III. A tap and click later and the file began printing out on the printer in the corner. "You can read all about him on our way to ask him a few questions. He lives right in Denver, practically your backyard. You know, if your backyard was the size of the state of Colorado."

"Not to be Mr. Pessimistic here but, MB, how are we going to get an appointment with the man, never mind get him to answer our questions about Katie's disappearance?"

"Because a man like Carey Lawhorne is not going to turn aside three WorldEx agents showing up on his doorstep on a Saturday afternoon." MB scooped the papers up from the printer tray and passed them off to Ami. "It's a public relations nightmare to be investigated by WorldEx."

"And where and how exactly are you planning on getting three agents to go along with this?"

"Kev, pay close attention. I'm only going to say this once." MB's face broke into a big grin. "We are the agents. Welcome to WorldEx."

End of Part 8


	9. Part 9

Transient Reality – Part 9

"Admittedly, I don't know much about regulations and requirements for national security issues, but the more I think about this, the more it seems that it really is walking a decidedly precarious line between legal and illegal." Kevin Wilson turned the WorldEx security badge over in his hand, studying the photographic image and the name "Agent Keith Wellsby," again. The photograph was his, taken with equipment at WorldEx headquarters, but the name was not.

"As long as you don't try to report in to work on Monday, it will be fine, Kev," MB assured him. "I told you that I even wiped all the information out of the system as soon as I was done creating the badges. No one will ever know."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Kevin muttered softly to himself as he closed the wallet holding the badge and returned it to the pocket inside of his jacket. Kevin had never been one for the "cloak and dagger" types of things that MB liked to take part in when requiring information was necessary; he typically went along with them however because MB's delight and enthusiasm at such was infectious and nearly impossible to resist. This particular endeavor was no exception. Though he and Ami gave resistance to the idea of posing as WorldEx security agents, here they were traveling through Denver in a rental car charged to a security account at WorldEx.

From the front passenger seat, Ami gave Kevin a smile over her shoulder. "I think Kevin's more worried about the possibility of deportation."

"They don't deport you for impersonating a security agent," MB teased, "At least I don't think they do." MB paused a beat, then continued in more serious tones. "Just relax and stick with the plan and everything will be fine."

"Refresh my memory, what exactly is the plan?"

"Ami talks to Lawhorne and you do that voodoo that you do so well."

Kevin stared at the back of MB's head, sending the older man an image of his scowling face. "And what are you going to be doing while Ami and I engage in quasi-legal interrogation?"

MB took a quick glance back at Kevin, a large, lopsided and all too familiar smile which heralding untold recklessness plastered on his face. "Snooping."

"Snooping? What –"

A low whistle from Ami cut off Kevin's argument. "I think that we are all in the wrong occupations. Who exactly does a person have to kill or betray to own a home like this by the time they're thirty?" The woman paused, glanced at the folder in her lap and snapped it closed. "Correction, thirty-two."

Kevin followed his friend's gaze out the window and drew a breath. This was definitely not your average suburbia. Sprawling houses nestled deep within acres of land, many of them hidden behind stone and iron wrought gates and winding driveways. The architecture and the feeling of the neighborhood all screamed wealth and prestige. Kevin had to stop himself from slouching down in the seat at the feeling of complete inadequacy and alienation he felt from the surrounding area.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Kevin suggested. "There have to be other ways to get information about Lawhorne."

"None as direct as going to the source." MB turned the car onto a private driveway, registering no surprise when the gate opened to permit the car entry. Of course, with MB's rather unique talent for manipulating and controlling electronics and mechanical equipment, Kevin wasn't surprised by the instant entry either. That however, only served to make him feel more uncomfortable.

"MB, perhaps it would have been a good idea to have rang at the gate and waited for entry," Ami scolded, voicing Kevin's own thoughts. "It doesn't make for a particularly good cover when the security gate suddenly isn't very good at being secure."

MB's grin told Kevin that this was a losing battle. The red head was clearly enjoying this more and more by the minute. "What? The gate was broken."

Ami groaned audibly and Kevin banged his head lightly against the headrest. Too late he recognized the familiar tight sensation in his stomach; he hadn't felt it since he was a teenager, so it was a bit foreign to him. It could only be described as realizing that he'd been suckered into one of MB's grand adventures, and now it was too late to do a damn thing about it.

_/Missed it, hmm?/_ Ami nudged softly at the edge of his mind.

Kevin straightened up and tightened his shields, his eyes meeting hers in the passenger side rearview mirror_. /What? No. We're too old for this./_

Her dark eyes twinkled and she projected a smile into his mind. _/Your secret's safe with me, Kev. We can't let MB know that we might be enjoying ourselves. He gets horribly insufferable when he's right./_

The words had the desired effect and Kevin sent her a smile back. _/Just remember, if I go down for actually getting nostalgic about all of this, I'm taking you with me./_

End of Part Nine


	10. Part 10

Transient Reality

Part Ten

Despite the fact that Kevin was positive that the "malfunctioning gate" would attract attention, the approach up the curving drive to the Lawhorne estate proceeded without interruption. No snipers or black booted guards with semi-automatics poured out of the greenery to aim their weapons at the uninvited vehicle. No growling, drooling guard dogs raced into the yard with eyes flashing as though they had waited their entire lives to take down trespassers. Kevin couldn't decide whether to be disappointed or ashamed of himself for being brainwashed by too many mystery and spy movies.

_Do we by chance have a plan, MB?_ Kevin asked his friend as the other man parked the car at the top of the curve of the driveway, mere feet away from the steps leading up to the sprawling, pillared front porch.

_Yes,_ MB grinned. _Follow my lead._

_Now there's a plan that's always worked for us before,_ Kevin chided but proceeded to climb from the vehicle as MB and Ami did. He took a moment to admire the posh structure towering above him before falling into step besides Ami and behind MB.

It took barely seconds after MB rang the bell for the door to swing open. The woman on the other side of the door wore a plain gray utilitarian housekeeping uniform and peered at them through dark eyes. She was of medium height and slightly round, graying hair pulled back in bun, and fit every inch of the stereotype of the elder Mexican housekeeper who tends to the family as though they were own. She even spoke with a strong accent, although her English seemed to be flawless. "Yes, how may I help you?"

MB slid effortlessly into his part, sliding his "badge" from his pocket and holding it before the housekeeper. "Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm Special Agent Donovan Reed of WorldEx Securities. These are Agents Amanda Johnson and Keith Wellsby. We've come to speak with Mr. Lawhorne on a matter of utmost importance."

"I am sorry, but Mr. Lawhorne does not see visitors without an appointment. Do you have an appointment, Señor Reed?" The woman held herself proudly, clearly not cowed by the impressive introduction that MB spit out. Of course, Kevin surmised, working for Carey Lawhorne she probably was well accustomed to turning aside all sorts of people from solicitors to over-eager politicians.

"No, I'm afraid that we don't. However, this is a matter of national security and time is of the absolute essence," MB returned his badge to his pocket, giving the housekeeper a half-smile that managed to be both pleading and charming at the same time. "I'm certain that if you talk to Mr. Lawhorne, he'll be happy to make an exception."

"Señor Reed –"

"We'll wait."

Kevin had to give MB credit. He was good at this_. Somebody has been practicing their cloak and dagger in recent years, haven't they? _

_Jealous that you're so out of practice?_ MB quipped in return.

Ami simply 'pathed them both the image of her rolling her eyes. It was something they were more than used to ignoring – she tended to roll her eyes a lot when dealing with MB and Kevin.

The housekeeper hesitated, but only for a moment. Either MB's complete confidence or boyish charm won her over and she nodded, opening the door to allow them access to the inner foyer. Kevin repressed the urge to whistle and gawk in admiration at the two-story foyer complete with marble flooring and intricately carved staircase winding upwards. He was relatively certain that most government agents did not gawk and stare like a child in a toy store. Still it did not go unnoticed by him or his associates that the foyer screamed of more money than they would ever earn in their lifetimes.

"Come with me, please," the housekeeper said after closing the door after them. She led the way into a sitting room off from the foyer, and after instructing them to wait, she exited, closing the double wooden doors behind her.

_Did anyone ever stop to think that maybe we are all pursuing the wrong vocations?_ Ami inquired as her eyes took in the elegant sitting room. Leather furniture, polished hardwood floors and a marble inlaid fireplace were the central foci of the room.

_Nah, this much money is overrated,_ MB responded. _He probably even drives a really fast sports car to make up for – other failings._

_Just because a man is wealthy and handsome doesn't mean he's inadequate in other aspects,_ Ami told him.

_Handsome?_ Kevin raised his eyebrows at her choice of words.

_I saw his picture and he is most certainly easy on the eyes._

_Then maybe instead of questioning him, we should just let you flirt with him?_ There was a teasing twinkle in MB's blue eyes as the corners of his mouth turned up in a mischeavous grin.

Whatever response Ami might have given, or whatever argument the two might have gotten into was interrupted by the doors to the room opening. MB's grin faded immediately, almost as if it had never been.

Kevin's first thought was that Carey Lawhorne was imposing, and not from height or stature, but rather from presence alone. He carried himself with the poise and confidence of someone who was well accustomed to being the center of attention, and always expected to be the moment he entered a room. Dark brown hair was combed neatly away from his face, and the smile that he greeted them with actually touched his dark eyes. Outwardly, he showed no signs of nervousness or hesitation, only a carefully presented curiosity at the appearance of three WorldEx agents at his home on a Saturday afternoon. However, Kevin was a Tomorrow Person and one of his strongest gifts was empathy; while Lawhorne's curiosity was genuine, the nervousness and worry also rippled just beneath the surface.

"Agent Reed?" Lawhorne's gaze shifted between Kevin and MB, apparently trying to gauge which man had managed to charm his way past the sentinel of a housekeeper.

"Special Agent Donovan Reed," MB stated, stepping forward. He presented his badge, leaving it out long enough for Lawhorne to study it intently before finally nodding and presenting his hand in a handshake of greeting and acceptance. "These are my associates, Agent Wellsby and Agent Johnson."

Lawhorne shook each hand in turn, holding onto Ami's perhaps a moment longer than was necessary. The fact that both Kevin and MB acknowledged that lingering grasp was a testament to the fact that Lawhorne was not trying in the least bit to be subtle.

After indicating that they should all be seated, Lawhorne addressed MB. "I'm afraid I must confess to some confusion regarding your presence, Agent Reed. Maria stated that it was a matter of some … national security?" Again came the pretense of confusion, but Kevin felt the wariness from the man.

"Yes, and due to the – confidentiality – of the situation, I'm afraid that we can not go into a lot of detail. However, we would like to ask you some questions regarding Santian Corporation." If anyone rivaled Lawhorne in the ability to appear completely neutral, it was MB at this moment. Kevin really had to give his friend kudos.

"Santian Corporation?" As Lawhorne echoed the last of MB's words, Kevin did what he did best. Or rather Kevin tried to do what he did best, but when he attempted to brush against Lawhorne's thoughts, he met a brick wall.

_Uh-oh,_ Kevin told the others, _I think we're going to need a plan B. He's got natural shields. _He didn't add that he could get past those shields, but that doing such would be too much like an invasion of privacy; he didn't have to say it because he knew that his friends agreed with the sentiment.

_Crap,_ MB summed up the situation in one word. _All right, let's keep him talking while I think of something else._

"Mr. Lawhorne, we are very thorough in our research. There really isn't any point in denying that you were one of the primary investors in the corporation." It was Ami who spoke, turning Lawhorne's attention from MB to her. It was Ami speaking, but if Kevin hadn't been in the same room with her, he would have doubted it. He simply hoped that he was keeping his face as carefully schooled as MB was.

Gone was her natural accent, replaced by an accent that was distinctly American. Seated on the leather sofa, she shifted slightly and crossed her legs causing the very businesslike and professional skirt that she wore to ride up her thighs, revealing far more leg than was professional under the circumstances. "Now, for whatever reason, Santian Corporation no longer exists and oddly enough, it appears to have been erased as though it never existed. We are here for a matter of national security, Mr. Lawhorne, so it would be terrible for this to turn to an exploration of," Ami shifted again, ever so much so that Lawhorne had a full glimpse of a long line of leg, "what might be quasi-legal business practices?"

For a brief moment, Lawhorne's well-practiced control slipped and his dark eyes dropped to follow the curve of Ami's leg until it disappeared beneath her skirt. It was only a moment however, a slip of control that Kevin almost missed before he forced himself to stop ogling his friend. He felt MB's amusement at the situation and for one fleeting moment, he wondered if the two of them hadn't planned this and left him out of the loop.

"Santian Corporation was a failed business idea. I'd rather not discuss all of the details of what my fellow investors and I were trying to achieve seeing how it flopped wonderfully, but, I will answer whatever questions you have. Although, I can assure you, Agent Johnson that if there was anything threatening to the security of this country, I know nothing about it."

"A black van registered to Santian Corporation was spotted in connection to a security threat that we have been monitoring, Mr. Lawhorne. Would you know how that came to be?"

The look on Lawhorne's face could have won him an Oscar. He was alternately confused and alarmed. Again, it was what happened beneath the surface that gave Kevin the information he needed. Thick tension rolled off of him, enough to be almost suffocating and his fear was quite palatable. "I'm afraid that would be impossible. All of the vehicles registered to Santian were sold or had their titles transferred to Irium Pharmaceuticals."

Ami leaned forward, the tip of her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. Her legs unfolded and crossed themselves at the ankles, the whisper of shifting fabric forcing Lawhorne's eyes to dart there briefly. Resting her arms against her legs, Ami folded her hands and gave Carey Lawhorne the most sympathetic, beguiling look that Kevin had ever seen on Ami's face. Also from that position she gave him quite a nice peek at a generous bit of cleavage. Very deliberately looking elsewhere, Kevin wondered how he managed to miss this little bit of devilment in Ami all these years. "Is it at all possible that maybe someone connected with the company might not have been as forth coming as you were led to believe, Mr. Lawhorne?"

"I think that I have a few telephone calls to make," Lawhorne decided after a moment. Whether it was a moment of consternation or simply a moment to look down Ami's blouse, Kevin couldn't be really certain. He rose and nodded to Kevin and MB, "If you would excuse me."

"Certainly," MB nodded in return. "Anything that you can do to help us – unravel – this mystery would be greatly appreciated."

Kevin waited a moment after the doors clicked closed behind Lawhorne to turn on Ami. _Who are you and what in the bloody blazes did you do to Ami?_

Ami shrugged and dropped back against the sofa, a frown tugging down the corners of her mouth. She was suddenly Ami Jackson again, not the ingénue of an agent who carelessly showed off more flesh than she intended. _I was trying to get him to project something that would be useful. Evidently it didn't work._

MB leaned back in his seat, _Well, that all depends on what you were trying to get him to project._

_He's scared,_ Kevin interrupted before they could get started. _He didn't let anything out, not thought wise, but he's definitely scared of something. _

_So, we just need to find out what, _MB surmised.

_Because that's going to be so easy to achieve. Kevin's right about him being shielded. Reading the man is like – Superman trying to see through lead – I think we've run out questions to ask. He hasn't incriminated himself at all._ Ami shook her head. _Or given us anything useful for finding Katie either._

_You could always flash your boobs at him some more. _

The anticipated explosion from Ami made Kevin put his mental shields in place and wait. However, the explosion never came. Instead, his friend frowned and shook her head. _I hate using my body as a tool. There has got to be an easier way to get some sort of information out of Lawhorne that doesn't involve using his Y-chromosome against him._ She paused and arched an eyebrow at MB, _And it also doesn't involve using my double Xs, or my double anything._

MB held up his hands in surrender, I wasn't going to say a word.

The door slid open again and all three heads turned to look at Lawhorne. Kevin reached out with mental fingers and sighed inwardly with disappointment when he noted the shield was still in place. The tension and wariness still covered the man like a second skin, which told him that something they said or something Lawhorne had learned was quite displeasing to them.

Lawhorne extended his hand and presented a sheet of paper to MB who sat nearest to him. "This is the man you should speak with regarding the movement and transfer of the Santian vehicles. Jeffrey Palmer. His address and contact information are there. I'm sorry I couldn't be of any further or assistance."

MB glanced quickly at the paper before placing it in his pocket. "Thank you very much, Mr. Lawhorne. You've been more than cooperative. Here's my card," a business card appeared between MB's fingers and was passed off to the corporate tycoon, "if you remember anything else, or anyone else we should talk to, please feel free to call me."

"I certainly will do that, Agent Reed. Agent Johnson, Agent Wellsby," Lawhorne nodded to each of them in turn as the housekeeper strode into the doorway and simply stood there. "Now, if you would excuse me, I have a dinner engagement this evening that I need to prepare for. Maria will see you out."

Back in the car, MB handed the paper to Ami and she added it to Lawhorne's file.

MB started the engine and pulled the car around the circular drive. "So, am I the only one who thinks that was a little too easy?"

Carey Lawhorne stood in the upstairs office window, telephone to his ear. His dark eyes watched as the car pulled away from the house and rolled slowly down the driveway. A scowl wrinkled his forehead and pulled his lips into a tight grimace.

"I'm not bankrolling ineptitude, Tarkiff. I don't care how indispensable you might think you are to The Trust, everyone, and I mean everyone can be replaced," Lawhorne growled into the telephone. "Now, I want you to find out everything that you can for me about three WorldEx Agents. Donovan Reed, Amanda Johnson, and Keith Wellsby.

"And tell Dr. Denning that we may have to move the schedule up."

End of Part 10


	11. Part 11

Transient Reality

Chapter 11

Jeffery Palmer only lived approximately thirty minutes from Carey Lawhorne, although his home was most certainly not located in the opulent neighborhood of the illustrious Mr. Lawhorne. Located in the cul-de-sac of a housing development, Jeffery Palmer's home at least did not make the three Tomorrow People feel as though they had mistakenly worn blue jeans to attend brunch at a posh country club. Not feeling out of place aside, Kevin still couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was "off." He was simply grateful that with Ami intuitively feeling the "wrongness" that MB took them seriously and wasn't about to storm in and do anything rash.

Which was the precise reason why they were sitting in the car, parked across the street from Palmer's house and looking for any sign of activity in the slightly overgrown garden.

"You know, from the looks of things, I think that it's safe to go in," MB said after twenty minutes of watching the house yielded nothing more than a group of pre-teens on bicycles and skateboards whizzing curiously past the car. "I don't think that he's home."

"I don't thin that he's been home for quite some time," Ami remarked. "Unless that garden is an artistic statement of some sort."

"Like what? I don't own a lawnmower or I'm too lazy to use one?"

The true meaning of the wrongness Kevin felt came to him at that moment. He shook his head, disregarding MB's characteristic banner as he narrowed his focus to stare long and hard at the house. "The house is dead."

MB turned in his seat to look back at him. He raised one eyebrow, "Kev?" There was no malice or teasing or doubt in the question.

Kevin shook his head again. "I can't explain it. The house just feels lifeless, dead. Like death. Like a morgue." Unbidden and unexplained, images flashed in his mind, images of blood, of fear, of corpses and bodies and tombstones and cemeteries. Often it was like that when he had feelings and tried hard to make sense and form associations, his brain backfired random images, background noise that he filtered out or psychic signatures he just never tried to process. His shields slid into place to protect his friends and Kevin concentrated on pushing back the flow of images and feelings.

"All right then. Thank you for that trip down morbid lane," MB turned back around in his seat and tapped his hands nervously on the steering wheel. Waves of tension and anxiety rolled off the other Tomorrow Person.

"Sorry," Kevin apologized immediately. "I didn't mean to broadcast that. I don't even know where it came from."

"Probably from the same place that made you say that the house is dead." MB gave a small shudder, making Kevin feel even more apologetic, and then, as though a switch had been switched, he straightened and glanced at his two companions. The all too familiar mischievous grin broke across his face, "So, we ready for a little bit of B&E?"

"B&E?" Ami repeated. "Please, do stop watching the crime dramas, MB." She didn't look quite like she'd totally pulled herself together from Kevin's mental leak and he instinctively reached out to brush her mind gently.

_/Ami, are you all right/_

_/I will be. I just don't have MB's recovery time./_

_/I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean -- /_

_/Kevin. Do stop./_ She cast him a gentle, reproving smile over her shoulder and broke off the mental contact. "I say we skip the illegal procedures and try a more novel approach."

"Like?" MB prompted.

Ami flashed the fake World Ex badge at him. "It worked once right?" Without waiting for an answer, she climbed out of the car and began walking across the deserted street looking for all the world like she knew exactly what she was doing.

_/Of course, if that doesn't work/_ Ami added as MB and Kevin scrambled from the car after her_/We might have to go with the breaking and entering plan./_

Ringing the doorbell yielded no answer, nor did knocking and banging on the door. After a futile ten minutes with no response and no discernible activity from inside the house, the three Tomorrow People decided to circle the house and the garden. They discovered that the grass grew even higher in the back than the front, there was a car in the garage, and a lawnmower that they opted to not test whether or not was working. Their prowling did not attract the attention of any neighbors leading them to believe that this was either a white-collar neighborhood, the sort where neighbors simply ignored anything that didn't affect them, or some combination of both.

"Dead house, Kev?" MB asked, his hand hovering over the lock on the back door.

Kevin nodded and swallowed reflexively. The feeling of wrongness was even stronger on the back porch.

MB hesitated, muttered something about Katie and there was a click. The door swung open to reveal a kitchen lit only by the bright sunlight from the outside. However, it was nearly impossible to take in any details of the kitchen as they all stepped back from the door as the smell of something horrible hit them.

_/Dear God, what is that smell/_ Ami sent the words telepathically, her hand clamped firmly over her mouth and nose.

_/Smells like someone forgot to take out the trash. For about a month,_/ MB said. He raised his arm and buried his face in the material of the suit jacket covering the crook of his arm. Face buried, he stepped across the threshold, wavered a moment and then disappeared further into the house.

_/Flies/_ MB reported. _/There's some old food, I think it was food, here in the kitchen. This guy left in a pretty big hurry./_

Kevin followed MB into the house, covering his face in the same manner and discovering that it only made the smell slightly more bearable. The way that smearing fresh manure under your nose would make the smell of skunk more bearable, which was to say that it wasn't bearable at all. Still the faster they searched Palmer's house and figured out what happened to him, the faster they could leave. And maybe with any luck they might actually find out what happened to Katie and Jake.

He noticed that Ami did not follow them inside and neither of he nor MB begrudged her the right to stand outside in the fresh air.

Fast on MB's heels, trying hard not retch, the sudden, jarring wave of repulsion and horror that slammed into Kevin made him stumble to a halt and nearly plow into his friend. Fortunately, he had the foresight to realize that MB was stumbling blindly backwards away from the room he'd just peered into – the room where the smell was even stronger – and managed to catch and steady them both before they landed on the floor.

_/What's wrong/_ Ami's mental voice came through shrilly, laced with so much tension and fear that it made every hair on Kevin's body stand on end. _/What's happening/_

_/Stay outside. Just stay outside./_ The words were an order from MB, not a request. He grabbed Kevin by the arm and without further words simply teleported them both back onto the porch.

MB managed to stumble down the porch stairs and make it to a tree in the far corner before leaning over and retching.

_/MB/ _

_/He's dead. Jeffery Palmer is dead./_

Carey Lawhorne steepled his fingers together as he listened with growing annoyance to the voice coming through the speakerphone. His fingers sorted through the faxes spread across his desk, faxes confirming the non-existence of two of the supposed World Ex agents whom had visited his home earlier. The third agent looked nothing like his photograph, so that raised the question of who precisely his visitors were and how they had information about The Project.

"Am I to understand that three agents from some unknown organization managed to somehow elude your best agents, Mr. Tarkiff?" Lawhorne cut into the man's rambling, glaring at the speakerphone as though he could transfer his ire to the man on the other end by sheer force of will.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Lawhorne. We found the rental car and it's being swept for fingerprints. But as I stated, no one saw the targets leave the rental agency after returning the car."

"And no one observed them making a 911 call upon leaving Palmer's home?"

"No, sir."

"And is anyone going to explain to me why Palmer's body was left in such a state where it could actually be found and possibly traced back to the organization?"

"Palmer's death was arranged to look like a suicide. That's the reason his body wasn't moved. It was believed that his neighbors would have heard the gun shot and called the police weeks ago."

"You didn't follow up." It was not a question.

"A suicide is an open and shut case. Any meddling or follow up on our part might have raised suspicion."

Lawhorne closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. He held it for a count of three then released it slowly through his mouth. "Instead we now have a rogue or unknown government or outside agency meddling in our business. You were sloppy, Tarkiff and I don't like sloppy.

"How far along is Dr. Denning?"

"I believe she is ready to begin." Tarkiff sounded relieved to be able to discuss something a bit more pleasing to Lawhorne.

"Then I strongly suggest you begin. Because the next time I speak with you, I want some good news."

"Yes, Mr. Lawhorne."

"Oh, and Tarkiff?"

"Yes?"

"Find me those supposed agents."

-- End of Chapter Eleven --


End file.
